Be the hint of a memory.

 

Be the,

hint of a kiss

on precious lips

that smile even

in the pouring rain.

 

Be the,

hint of a memory

in the sight of beauty

that shines even

in the pouring rain.

 

Be the,

scent of a night

filled with musk

and dying stars

in the pouring rain.

 

Be the,

sting of regret

in a captured thought

on a forgotten day

beneath the pouring rain.

 

Be the,

taste of a flutter

of a remembering heart

growing old in the days

in the pouring rain.

 

Karen Hayward ©2016

 

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